


Diner Dash

by Ninjaninaiii



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Diners, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Denny's, M/M, also massive nerd boys, bear in mind i'm a brit who's been to america once, but still, children timeskip adults no underage relationships here, i did my research, i know what's up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-03
Updated: 2014-11-03
Packaged: 2018-02-23 21:57:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2557139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ninjaninaiii/pseuds/Ninjaninaiii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik's eat and run adventure is hindered by a child who is abysmal at using a UFO catcher.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Diner Dash

There is a child staring into the machine by the door.

Erik has been eyeing the door for some time now, and this child is between him and it.

He had chosen the booth closest to the door, had ordered and eaten a Grand Slam, and was planning on having it gratis.

This child was preventing him from this dream.

The doorway was narrow; a ridiculous design that meant if anyone was using the UFO machine placed directly in front of it, nobody could pass.

He could, of course, shove the child out of his way whilst he made his run for it, but the kid looked half his age. Probably. Erik couldn't tell. The kid was shorter than him, but then again, so were most people. He was an abnormally tall 15 year old. The kid was also wearing just-above-the-knee shorts, his dress shirt tucked into them, a blazer completing the look.

This child definitely did not belong in this undersized, underwhelming Denny's out in the middle of nowhere, CA. 

Hey, if the dine and dash didn't work out, perhaps he could kidnap the child and send out a ransom notice.

The kid looked like he'd given himself a headache by the intense look he got on his face, his fingers coming to rest on his temple.

A waitress sidled up to the table and gave him a Denny's smile. "Would you like anything else, Sir?" Erik had been staring too long or too wistfully at the door. He shook his head, turned up the charm. He'd recently stopped being able to use the bambi-eyes card, but found that a different kind of smile could work just as well. "Alright, hun, well here's your bill, you take your time, 'kay?" She slipped his paper towards him across the table and gave him a motherly wink. At least, he hoped it was motherly. She was possibly quadruple his age. The bill was thankfully number-free, so he took that as a good sign.

He wiped his mouth again and checked his phone. Nearly twelve. Time to go. Erik picked up the fork he had used and curled each of the prongs. It was a childish gesture, he knew, but it had been his signature for years now, and it felt like a subtle trail, evidence that he had eaten all over the world. He glanced at the door again, but was caught in the act by the child, who hooked his eyes with his own. Erik couldn't decide if that made him want to shove the boy more or less. He stood. Made as if to head towards the cashier's desk. Aborted this movement and drifted towards the door.

"Excuse me." The voice was prim and childish and it made Erik jump. It wasn't the waitress though, so he kept going. Until he felt something latch onto his shirt. "Excuse me," the boy repeated, sterner this time.

"Excuse _me_ ," Erik repeated, turning around so he could dislodge the hand, but continuing walking backwards as he did so. "Didn't your mother tell you not to grab at strangers? It's rude."

The boy gave him a look, and suddenly he didn't seem quite to much younger than he looked. His eyes were wide and brown and innocent but irrefutably knowledgeable and Erik didn't miss the glance they shared at his empty table. "And I suppose you would know what was considered rude?" This kid wasn't going to be fucked with.

"And don't you know it." Erik crossed his arms, settling himself in for whatever this was going to turn out to be. "What do you want, kid?"

"I would like you to help me with this machine." The boy flicked his fringe out of his eyes and turned towards the game. "It seemed like a simple device, but as I analysed it, it became harder to conceptualise winning the darned thing."

Erik's child-napping career shone through his mind. This kid was so far out of his sphere of existence it was incredible. "It's a claw machine," he answered as the boy shot him a withering look, apparently annoyed that he wasn't immediately answered. "You're not meant to win it. It's rigged. You put in all the coins you want, the claws don't close tight enough to catch anything." All he would need to do is to offer to take the kid to the park, or to his house to eat candy or...

"My name is Charles," the boy said across his thoughts, outstretching his arm.

"Uhuh." Erik could pretend at being his buddy. "Erik," he replied, shaking the hand.

"So? Will you help me, Erik?"

"Uh, I did just tell you it was impossible, right? Or, well, unless you have a couple dozen dollar notes lying around, anyway."  _In which case, you could buy me dinner._

One edge of Charles's lip lifted into a smirk. "Win me that plush toy," he said, pointing at one of the spectacularly grotesque dolls swimming amongst its brethren. 

"And why should I do that?"

"My sister was particularly keen on owning it."

"And?"

"And I'm assuming you wanted to leave this establishment without paying for your meal?"

Erik's smile, or what he had convinced himself was a smile, dropped. Looked like the kid did need a good shove.

"Uh uh uh," Charles chided, taking a step back as Erik took a step forwards. Arguably a half-second before him. "I wouldn't do that if I were you, my friend."

"Oh you wouldn't, would you?" Erik caught a glimpse of himself in the glass of the machine; he couldn't deny his shark-ishness when feeling particularly violent.

"It's a simple trade, Erik," Charles said, clapping a hand on his shoulder in an infuriatingly adult way. "You win me that toy, I'll buy you your dinner."

 _This child is blackmailing me._ Erik couldn't help but be slightly impressed. He easily had a head on the kid, if not half a decade more of experience in being alive. 

"You'll find our ages are not as dissimilar as you'd think, Erik." He looked smug. Too smug. He had that glint in his eye again, was dropping his fingers from his forehead.

"And what makes you think I  _can_ do it?" Because he could, and frequently had won a variety of prizes he'd pawned off, especially with the advent of games that offered tablets or gaming devices.

When Charles grinned this time, his teeth shone through white and straight. "I am incredibly intrigued by your penchant for... metal-work."

Erik's heart skipped a beat, his eyes dragged to where he'd left the bent fork for all to see. He hadn't exactly been secret about it, he'd gotten so used to nobody noticing it, but now that he thought about it, Charles had been looking at him after he'd done it, but people didn't just, bring it up- his eyes snapped back to Charles. "It's one of those tricks. Learnt it in a scout book. You bring a bent fork and swap it out for the normal one. I was pranking the waitress."

The smugness hadn't left Charles' face. In fact, he looked positively buzzing with it, with the look of someone who's holding out a present. He lifted a hand to his temple again and smiled.

'You work with metal, I work with something less... physical.' 

Erik's taking of deep breaths couldn't decide whether it wanted to speed up or stop altogether. That was definitely not out loud. That was definitely Charles's voice. Charles hadn't opened his mouth. His body decided that now would be a good time to activate the fight or flight mechanism, but how could he react to this threat? Was it a threat? Of course it was a threat, this child was in his mind, this child was talking to him with his brain, what else could he do, how could he even consider fighting against this- Erik's body decided that, in light of this though trail, running would be a great idea.

Except.

'Ah. Hm. Well, when I said less physical, I realise I may have been lying, slightly.' The kid sounded sinister beyond his years as he held Erik's body captive with his goddamn fucking mind. Because Erik was being conveyed this, very quickly, most likely by Charles himself. Charles was preventing Erik's body from listening to his mind.

"I'm 15, by the way," Charles said, this time very much out loud and probably to cover the soundless conversation they had been having in their minds. 

"There is _no_ way you are _fifteen_ ," Erik bit out, because there was no way he was going to say anything to the voices in his head. "You're wearing schoolboy shorts."

"Born in Germany, I see? Max Eisenhardt, hm-"

"Erik," he corrected. "Erik Lehnsherr. Get out of my head-"

"Not metal," Charles squinted. "Electromagnetic fields? Interesting-"

"What would you know about electromagnetic fields, you're about 5 and get out of my head-"

"Well," Charles's smile was unmistakeably coy. "I must say, it would be thrice as impressive if a five year old were to be graduating form Harvard within the next few months..."

"Harvard?" _The gift that just kept on giving._ He was still being held in place, forced to make eye contact with the  _child_. "You're a long ways from there,  _friend."_ Erik couldn't say he disbelieved the kid's potential academic ability. 

'I am aware, thank you,' Charles commented. 'Now, are you suitably calm? I would actually like to win this darned prize, and Raven should be back any time now...'

Erik managed a nod when he saw the waitress giving the two of them a curious, or, rather, a dubious glance. She seemed ready to call them both out, right now, and Charles didn't look like he'd missed that.

Metaphorically dusting himself off, and making a mental note to look into how to build walls in his mind, he turned to the machine. He could usually operate the things without inserting any money at all, but just to spite the kid, he held out his hand, acting impatient and squaring himself up to the controls.

Charles probably knew this, but he forked over the notes anyway. _It's not like he couldn't spare a few dollars anyway,_ Erik's own voice told his brain. 

Erik won two toys in one grab, just to show off. Just because he could. No, he wasn't about to graduate Harvard university with honours. No, he couldn't make a whole human come to a full stop in a Denny's. But could he beat a 5 year old at using a UFO machine? Yes. Yes he could. Well. Technically no. Could he cheat at using a UFO machine? Yes. 

"You and your sister can match." He left the toys where they'd dropped for Charles to bend and collect, stuffing his bill in Charles's pocket. "Thanks for lunch. See you never." He escaped before Charles or waitress could stop him.

-

There is a man staring at the machine by the door.

Erik has been eyeing the door for some time now, and this man is between him and it.

He had chosen the table closest to the door, had ordered and eaten a Full English, and was planning on having it gratis.

This man was preventing him from this dream.

The doorway was narrow; a ridiculous design that meant if anyone was using the slot machine placed directly in front of it, nobody could pass.

He could, of course, shove the man out of his way whilst he made his run for it, but the man was cute. Probably. Erik couldn't tell. The man was shorter than him, but then again, so were most people. He was an abnormally tall 25 year old. The man was also wearing his dress shirt tucked into his trousers, a blazer completing the look. The nerdy look. He could probably go for that. He didn't want to shove him, is what this amounted to.

This man definitely did not belong in this undersized, underwhelming Harvester's out in the middle of nowhere, Essex. 

Hey, if the dine and dash didn't work out, perhaps he could kidnap the man and send out a ransom notice.

Or just ask him out. 

Erik laughed into his beer.

The man looked like he'd given himself a headache by the intense look he got on his face, his fingers coming to rest on his temple. 

A waitress sidled up to the table and gave him a Harvester's smile. "Would you like anything else, Sir?" Erik had been staring too long or too wistfully at the 'door'.

He turned up the charm. "The dessert menu, if you'd please."

"Right on the back," she said, turning the place mat-come-menu over for him. "Take your time and just call if you decide, yeah?"

Erik checked his phone as she left. Nearly twelve. Time to go. He picked up the fork he had used and curled each of the prongs. It was a childish gesture, he knew, but it had been his signature for years now, and it felt like a subtle trail, evidence that he had eaten all over the world. He glanced at the door again, but was caught in the act by the man, who hooked his eyes with his own. Erik couldn't decide if that made him want to kiss the man more or less. He stood. Made as if to head towards the toilets. Aborted this movement and drifted towards the door.

"Excuse me," he said to the man, who dropped his fingers from his forehead as if he'd been waiting for the words. 

"Excuse _me_ ," the man said, stepping out of the way in a way that said please-don't-leave, but in a terribly apologetic way. "This darned machine is completely in the way of the door, am I right?"

Erik nodded, looking over the man's shoulder to spy his current winnings. "You seem like you've been going through a lot of trouble to have only won a grand total of £3."

"I admit  _could_ use a little bit of help..." 

"You're in luck, my friend, I've been said to have a way with these things..." he cracked his knuckles in a way he hoped looked vaguely impressive. 

"A way with metal, hm?"

Erik's face falls for a second before his eyes relight. "Electromagnetic fields, actually."

"Oh,  _really_?"

"Harvard not teach you anything, old friend?"

"You seem surprised. And yet I find you've not changed at all yourself..." The waitress shoots a look at them and they wave in tandem. "Next round on me?"

"I'll even let you pay for dinner for old time's sake."

"Charming, Erik." Charles raised one eyebrow as his voice was drowned out by the machine's cries of 'jackpot'. "Incredibly charming."

 

 


End file.
